Mother's Day
by Avery Greyson
Summary: Arnold has to deal with memories of his parents after a rough day at school.
1. Chapter 1

**This one took a bit longer than expected, but overall I'm quite happy with it. It gets a bit sad in the middle of the story so bear with me, but as they tend to do, things end very well. Friday is your update day, should have four or five chapters total. Tell me what you think as you read it, and as always, enjoy! -AG**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Friday Morning<strong>

The sweet smell of chocolate slowly wafted by his face, bringing him gently out of sleep. He opened his eyes and looked out in the warm room, illuminated by the soft sun coming in through the skylight in the roof; it was snowing out.

"Happy birthday kiddo," his dad said, setting a tray of chocolate-chip pancakes down on the edge of his bed.

Arnold smiled as he sat up in bed. "Hey dad,".

Miles turned around back toward the door and smiled at his wife as she came in behind him, holding a cup of tea. Stella went over to Arnold's bed, leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. She placed the mug down on the tray and stood back up.

"Happy birthday. Now eat up and head downstairs when you're ready. Grandma and Grandpa are waiting," Stella said.

Arnold looked up at his parents; they both had a mischievous twinkle in their eyes.

"What is it?" He asked smiling.

"Well you'll just have to wait and see won't you?" Miles said.

They both turned and walked out of the room. Stella poked her head around the corner before closing the door. "See you downstairs,"

Arnold laughed quietly to himself and leaned his head back on the pillow. The roof was blanked with soft snow, giving everything in the room a warm glow from the fresh pack. He loved it when it snowed. The smell of warm chocolate again invaded his senses, and he reached down and pulled the tray toward him. He grabbed the fork on the red folded napkin and tore into the first pancake, the chocolate chips breaking softly away from the warm center. They were the best he'd ever had and he devoured the plate in minutes. Setting the tray on the edge of the bed, he threw on a sweatshirt and headed for the door. Arnold crept down the staircase and inched in the doorway of the kitchen. His mom and dad were sitting at a table with Phil and Gertie. His grandparents got up and hugged him when they saw him enter.

"Happy birthday Shortman," Phil said warmly.

Miles got up and patted Arnold on the shoulder. "Come on in the living room," he said smiling.

Arnold followed his dad into the parlor, rounding the corner and seeing a brand new Roland RD700 electric piano, covered by a large red bow. His face lit up as he saw the glorious instrument and he looked back at Stella and Miles, unable to contain his grin. They returned the smile, hugging each other as they watched their son walk over to his present. The glorious metal body felt cool as he ran his hand slowly over its revered surface. He had been lusting over this piano for months and it now stood right in front of him. It was his.

"Mom, Dad, thank you so much!" Arnold said triumphantly, running over to them.

The three of them hugged and he never felt so at peace; he was truly happy. His feet felt cold. He shifted them around to try to warm them up but they kept getting colder. He couldn't feel the soft carpet anymore even though he was standing right on top of it.

He slowly opened up his eyes, staring at the cold grey morning light invade his window. The covers had fallen off the end of his bed, leaving his feet exposed. Arnold shut his eyes tightly, trying desperately to get back to the dream. He sighed heavily and groggily sat up. He reached for a small drawer next to his bed and pulled out a picture of his parents. He held the picture carefully, running his fingers slowly over the worn edges.

"Hey Mom. Hey Dad,"

He felt his throat tighten and slammed his eyes shut as they began to water. He coughed and wiped at his face, stiffly getting out of bed. Placing the picture gently down on the covers, he crossed the room and walked up the small ladder leading to the roof. It was just past seven in the morning and the sun had so far been unable to pierce the thick layer of fog that blanketed the city. Arnold crawled out the small opening and headed over to the wall on top of the house, overlooking the street. He sighed again and looked up at the sky. A plane flew overhead, its engines letting loose low pitch hum that rocketed in silent symphony far above the early morning city noise. Arnold wondered where it was headed, maybe Washington or maybe father up to Canada; maybe Japan. He closed his eyes and pictured the three of them, together again and heading to Canada. He'd never been, but it wasn't like it mattered. He'd give away everything he had for a trip to Wyoming if it meant being a family again. He brought a fist down and slammed it into the railing on the edge of the roof. The instant sting of the shingles stabbing into him felt good. It hurt, and that was grounding. It meant he wasn't dreaming anymore.

Arnold went back into his room, shutting the skylight on the way back in. His alarm clock read 7:27AM MAY 10TH in hazy digital letters-three minutes until it was set to go off. He switched it off and sat down on his bed, carefully placing the picture back in its box. It was then he realized how early it was and how little sleep he got the night before.

_It's going to be a long one today _he thought begrudgingly to himself. He got up and headed downstairs. _Well let's get this show on the road._

* * *

><p>Arnold walked downstairs a while later, backpack hanging off one shoulder, and into the kitchen. Given his head start, he still had a good fifteen minutes before the bus would show up. He slid his pack off his shoulder and let it flop against the door frame as he scooted a pair of bent legs, their body waist deep in the open refrigerator.<p>

"Morning Grandpa," Arnold said.

"Morning Shortman. Orange juice?" A hand shot out from the fridge holding a Tropicana carton.

"No thanks, I'm alright for now," Arnold said. He had spotted a tin of some sort of pie on the counter and was moving in to investigate.

"Well suit yourself. If you change your mind though, you should have some before Oscar gets down here. Bastard goes through more juice than a Fiji fruit fly," Phil said, still buried in the refrigerator.

Arnold grabbed a fork and poked at the pie; it looked like it had raspberries in it. Satisfied, he dug into the side of the bowl, raising a forkful to his mouth.

"And whatever you do, don't touch that cobbler on the counter. Stuff's been sitting out for God knows how long, started to grow fur last night. It's _bad_ cobbler,".

Arnold stopped right as the pastry was about to pass his lips. He spun the bowl around and sure enough, the entire left side was covered in furry mold.

"Ugh, duly noted. Why do we even still have this anyway?" He asked, shoving his fork and the bowl away.

"Well I was planning on letting Kokoshika find out the hard way, revenge for eating the ice-cream sandwiches last week y'know, but now it's just getting out of hand. Might grow legs and walk away if we're not careful!" Phil said, finally stepping out from the fridge. "I was thinking about making some pancakes though, if you want to stick around for a few minutes," He said, opening up the pantry. "Think we even have some chocolate chips in here somewhere!"

Arnold looked up suddenly and then down at his feet. "That's…you know I'm not really hungry. I think I'll just head down to the bus stop a bit early,"

"Alright suit yourself," Phil said.

Arnold turned and crossed back into the hallway. He grabbed his backpack and headed quickly for the door. The wooden walls were closing in on him and he felt nauseous; getting outside and away from the house sounded like heaven. He jerked open the door and slipped outside. The cold midmorning air swept over his face, instantly cooling him down. He stood on the stoop for a moment, taking in the air and calming himself down. Satisfied, he started slowly pacing the block and a half to the HillTrans stop that would run all the way to school. The dream had been bombarding itself against his skull ever since he got up, each vivid detail painfully resurfacing for him to relive. He focused down on his black Converse, looking at every stitch and line in the canvas, watching how the rubber soul lifted and fell on the cracks in the sidewalk, anything to break the cycle his mind was in.

_Man I hate these things. It's been so long since the last one, I thought they were over. It's this stupid holiday. It always is. _

After his thirteenth birthday, Arnold had had somewhat of a revelation: he hadn't necessarily given up the hope that his parents were still alive and would one day come back, but he began to realize just how long a time eleven years really was. The chance that they were still alive, and hadn't contacted anyone whatsoever, seemed less and less as the days went by. It was rough at first, but he began to accept the inevitable and move on. He started to return to his old self, living each day and trying to get by. A year and a half later, he liked to think he was doing a pretty good job at it. There were three days out of the year though that he really hated, and the second Sunday of May was one of them. To him, Mother's day, right along with Father's day and the rest of the Hallmark holidays, weren't just more pointless celebrations, they were insults: constant reminders of what he was missing. He knew it was a ridiculous thought, that the holiday was catered just to annoy him, but he couldn't help the feeling of it growing at the back of his mind every year.

He let his mind wander the rest of the way to the bus stop and leaned up to the cold metal post. He still had about ten minutes to kill. His hand had started to throb from the shingles on the roof earlier, and he rubbed the side of it tenderly.

'_Cause that was a good idea. Hitting stuff never, ever, solves anything. You know that. _He scolded himself, shaking out the sting.

"Hell of a morning for the start of summer right?"

Arnold turned around at the voice to see Gerald had rounded the corner and was walking up to their usual morning meeting place.

"Morning. Yeah, well, I'm sure it'll be nice out tomorrow. The weather guy said it was just a low passing front, or…something," Arnold said, putting on his most cheerful face.

"Man, you look like hell. You okay?" Gerald said, leaning against the bus signpost.

Arnold smiled softly and rubbed his forehead. "Yeah I'm alight. Rough night, I didn't get much sleep,"

Gerald nodded.

"Weird dreams," Arnold finished before he could ask.

"Hmm," Gerald said, seeming to understand.

The two were quiet for a moment, Gerald noticing every second of the awkward silence and Arnold just happy to be with someone else other than his mind.

"So, uh, this might be a bad time but, you're still good to help me cook on Saturday night right?" Gerald asked timidly.

Arnold smiled. "Of course. I'm not about to bail on you when your own brother skipped town,"

"I know right? Of all the times to get an 'unplanned internship'," Gerald said exaggerating air quotes. "On Mother's Day? Jamie-o really does have some balls," he continued, glad for Arnold's answer.

"Well at least he's got imagination. Did your parents buy it?"Arnold said.

"Who knows? They let him get away with it. I doubt they know about _Violet _though. Now _that _would be a different story!" Gerald said.

"He's got to bring her back sometime I guess?" Arnold said.

"Eventually. Unless he dumps her, which is looking more and more unlikely as the months go by. All I know is now it's just me, and I am _not _letting Timberley in the kitchen again after what happened last time," Gerald said.

Arnold chuckled as the 34 bus pulled up. They both got on and walked back to their usual seats and the driver quickly swung back into traffic.

The bus rolled on down the street, on its way to Hillwood High. The ride was relatively short, but it provided a nice ease in to the morning routine. The 34 line was installed to ease the morning commute for the city's high-schoolers, and went through most of the lower residential sections and then straight to the uptown campus.

"Seriously though, thanks for doing this. I owe you big time, I know it's been kinda…well, I know it's weird…," Gerald started as they sat down.

"Don't worry about it, it's fine. I don't really like to be in the house much over this weekend anyways," Arnold said, smiling.

_Yeah FINE: freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional _Arnold thought to himself. _I owe it to him though, he can't really cook. Especially not four whole Cornish hens. _

Arnold laughed as he thought of Gerald running around with an exploding kitchen, wearing a chef's hat that had burst on fire.

"What?" Gerald said defensively.

"Nothing. How did you say you were going to cook those hens again?" Arnold said, still chuckling.

"Um, fry them?" Gerald said sheepishly.

"You're hopeless," Arnold said shaking his head.

"Well excuse me Gordon Ramsey, I didn't know you were an authority on hen cooking," Gerald said as the bus pulled up to its next stop.

The driver swung the doors open and the entire frame of the bus dipped down as its next passenger stepped on. He was massive, built like a linebacker and dressed in a tight black sweatshirt. His hair was cut tight to his head in a buzz cut and he wore black leather driving gloves. By now the bus had quite a lot of other kids on it heading up to the various Hillwood schools, and they all turned away trying to avoid eye contact with the newcomer. He went straight for the back of the bus and slammed himself down against the farthest window seat. The smell of stale weed and stale booze followed him in a cloud as he passed Arnold and Gerald.

"Phew, he really reeks this morning. I didn't know Wednesday was a big party night but I stand corrected," Arnold said under his breath.

"Every night's a party night for Lon. Did you hear what he did to Curley?" Gerald whispered.

Arnold looked back at Gerald, surprise in his eyes.

"I guess he put oregano in a bag and sold it to him for twenty bucks. Said it was some crap Mexican pot or something. Lon wasn't very happy with him after that," Gerald said.

"He's insane. I'm surprised he's still alive," Arnold said.

The bus stopped again and, as if on cue, in walked Curley followed by Helga and Phoebe; the right side of his face was swollen to match a giant black eye. Curley took a seat in front while Helga and Phoebe sat behind Arnold and Gerald.

"Good morning Gerald! I'm assuming you heard about what happened to Curley?" Phoebe said, setting her messenger bag on her lap.

"He's totally stupid. I can't believe he did that," Gerald said.

"Talk about stupid, what about 'ol Loney boy? Buying an eighth for twenty bucks? I mean come on. I guess that's why the guy keeps getting DUI's. Dumb as a post," Helga said, rifling through her bag for a pack of gum.

"He got another one?" Arnold asked incredulously.

"Oh yeah, why do you think he still takes the bus all the time? Kid's eighteen and a half, taking the reunion tour of senior year, and I'm sure has a record longer than most felons," Helga said, finally pulling out her pack of gum.

The three of them slowly looked back at Lon, being as discreet as they could. Lon was repeatedly kicking the back of a younger kid's seat in front of him. The younger kid sat in horror, eyes locked forward refusing to turn around.

"Yeah I guess you're right," Arnold said, turning around.

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><p>The bus ride helped to clear his head a little, but Arnold was still running the dream around in his head. As per their usual morning routine, Gerald had taken off with Phoebe for AP biology after the bus, leaving Arnold and Helga to a short walk to English class. He turned down a side hall and stopped at his locker, Helga right behind him. She stepped three rows to the right and started working the combination to her own locker.<p>

"Well I certainly don't pity your second period Shortstuff," Helga said, taking out a copy of _Nineteen Eighty-Four_.

Arnold looked up at her questioningly, stuffing his Calculus and Government texts in his bag.

"Gym class? With Lon? He seemed in an even more pissed off mood than usual. Giving him an actual excuse to run around and hit people sounds _awesome,_" Helga said.

"Oh. He usually doesn't give me any trouble," Arnold said flatly.

"A do-gooder pussy pants like you? I'd imagine he'd be all over you. Maybe he just doesn't know you well enough," Helga said mockingly.

"Whatever. It'll be fine," Arnold said.

He closed his locker and turn to head to their English class.

_God I wish she'd lay off for just one morning. I'm really not in the mood for this right now. _

She jogged up to him and slowed her pace, falling into a stride beside him. He kept his face locked down to his feet; he could tell she was looking at him, trying to get a response out of him.

_What else is new?_

She coughed a little. "You okay? You seem a bit…distant this morning," She said, turning her head slightly to the side. "N-not that I care or anything, but it might actually make me feel bad about giving you shit if you keep acting like this," Helga added quickly.

Arnold looked up at her just as they got to the door of the classroom. "Oh, no I'm okay. Just…didn't get much sleep last night I guess,"

"Oh. Well…don't make a habit out of it Football Head, if you're not exhausted after the end of each day it means I'm not doing my job right," She said, forcing a weak smile.

"I'll keep that in mind Helga," Arnold said turning to walk to his seat.

_Helga Helga Helga. Why do I put up with that. Why don't you just go tell her to leave you alone. In fact, go over there right now! _

He laughed slightly to himself as he plopped down in his seat. He took out his red spiral bound notebook and flipped to a random page. He scribbled _S.S.D.D. _across the center of the page. The teacher walked to the front of the class and began talking as Arnold began to fill in the letters and twist them into a skyline.

He let his mind wander as he absently drew, half listening about controlling the past to control the future and to the birdsong outside the foggy class window. He glanced down at the page and saw that he had began to draw the outline of a biplane, dotting the tops of his SSDD clouds. Arnold stared at the drawing a moment, staring it down, and then slammed the notebook shut.

"Something to add Mister Short?" the teacher said, raising his eyebrow in annoyance.

Several other students around him had looked up from their notes and were now staring along with the teacher.

"No I, uh, sorry," Arnold said blushing.

He heard a few soft snickers as the boring lecture commenced. He slowly looked over his shoulder toward the row behind him. Helga gave him a sarcastic thumbs up before going back to her iPhone tucked under her copy of George Orwell's thesis on modern society.

The bell rang shortly after, and Arnold slammed the rest of his things in his bag and headed for the door.

"Nice trip there space cadet. How did you survive in school this far if you don't know how to make it at least _look_ like your paying attention?" Helga said catching up to him in the hallway.

"Maybe I actually like to learn something once in a while instead of texting all class" Arnold said bitterly.

"Ooh, Arnold, I'm hurt. It was a good conversation though, nice and juicy,"

"I'm sure it was fantastic Helga," Arnold said.

_I wish she'd just leave. _

"Man you really are out if it today aren't you?" Helga said.

"I told you, I'm just tired," Arnold said, rounding the corner.

He spotted the doorway to the quad, and ultimately the locker room.

_Just a few more steps. _

"Okay, well…I'll see you at lunch. And uh, take it easy okay?" Helga said, slowing down as he walked on.

"Will do. Seeya Helga," Arnold said, making a beeline for the courtyard.

He stepped through the doorway and was finally outside.

_One period down, six more to go._

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Lorin Silver and the Locker Change<strong>

** 8/12/2011**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Lorin Silver and the Locker Change**

The air felt good on his face. He felt his mind start to wander up to the sky which was a welcome relief to the constant bombardment of opinion and analysis from English class. The fog had started to break slightly, but it was still far from being a nice day. Arnold walked around the outside edge of the quad to the side entrance of the gym where the locker room was. He was hoping that they would have to run today; it would feel good to get some blood pumping through his body and get his mind on something other than the night before.

_Maybe I was a bit hard on Helga. She was just doing what she always does, _he scolded himself.

He didn't mind Helga and her constant barrage of insults and obscenities; in fact it gave his days some order. As the years went on from childhood, it actually started to cheer him up. No matter what mood either he or the world was in, he could always count on Helga to provide a bit of cynicism.

_I'll say something at lunch, _he concluded walking into the locker room.

Arnold rounded the small corner in the doorway and saw a large crowd of his classmates standing by the far wall by the entrance to lockers. All three gym instructors were standing at the front of the group, clipboards in hand, blocking their way to the rows of lockers.

"What's going on?" Arnold asked a nearby junior.

"Locker change. Cause, you know, that makes a lot of fuckin' sense one month before summer," the junior replied bitterly.

Arnold nodded and stepped toward the back of the pack, inching his way around other people to get a clear view of the gym teachers.

"Alright listen up! Go clean out your lockers, grab your stuff and come back over to us. A-G come over to me, H-Q go to Coach Hannisey, and R-Z head over to Mr. Hoskins. Once you've got your new locker number, pack up and get changed. You've got fifteen minutes before I want to see everyone out on the track. Got it? Come on let's go!" the first teacher said, holding up his clipboard.

The students in the group slowly moved out into the room, grumbling as they made their way to their lockers. Arnold went to the back of the locker room where the freshman and sophomore lockers were and weaved his way through the mass of people. The smell of stale sweat and Axe body spray stung his nose as the grey plastic locker doors swung open, mixing their sour stink with the disinfectant perfume of the tiled floor.

"Don't forget your locks! I don't want to have to get my clippers today," one of the teacher's voices erupted from up front.

Arnold stopped at his locker, dilled in the combination and scooped up his grey and black P.E. shorts and shirt. He filed in behind some of the other sophomores, making their way back to the front like inmates on a chain gang. He mixed in with the group around Mr. Hoskins, who was holding the R-Z clipboard.

"Listen up! We're mixing you guys up by name this time, not by class year," Hoskins said to the entire room.

The crowd erupted in murmurs and groans.

"I don't even want to be in the same room as the freshies, and now I gotta have one next to me?" A senior shouted from the back of the crowd.

Laughter erupted from the seniors and juniors, while the underclassman shifted nervously and looked around them.

Arnold signed. _This is going to get complicated. Just keep your head down and get in and out quick. _

"Yeah yeah har de har. Line it up!" Hoskins shouted, slamming his clipboard on the side of the wall.

Arnold slowly inched his way to the back of the group forming around Hoskins. His plan was to get his number and be changed and gone by the time any other upperclassmen showed up; he was not in any mood to deal with trouble that might come up today. Standing in the back row, he couldn't help but notice a buzzed head, standing a good foot taller than anyone else, posted in the far right corner of the group. Lon shifted uncomfortably and leaned up against a locker end.

"Okay we're going to go right down the line here so listen up. Rodgers, Oliver-20. Roliker, David-22. Ruliard, Mitchell-24," Hoskins called out.

_Does Lon's last name start with an R? _

"Samson, Thomas-26. Seamus, Samuel-26. Sebastion, Corey-28,"

_That would really suck. I hope he's not in my row. _

"Segrams, William-30. Shalio, Issac-32. Shills, Michael-34,"

_Wait, what does Lon even stand for?_

"Shoe, Connor-36. Short, Arnold-38. Silver, Lorin-40…don't give me any trouble Lon, you don't want to go there. Tillion, James-42," Hoskins shouted as Lon propelled off the wall.

_Oh no. _

Arnold turned around and walked for the thirties-even row as fast as he could.

_Maybe if I run I can beat him there_.

He rounded the corner down the main hall and broke into a light jog as he passed the showers. He bounded down the even column, weaving in and out of other students walking slowly to their new lockers.

Row sixty.

He could see the end of the wall now, and the red _30-40 _painted on the side. His destination.

Row fifty.

He pictured Curley getting his face pounded in some dark alley with nobody around except a very angry Lon. That made Arnold speed up into a full run.

Row forty.

He bounded around the corner and skidded to a stop. A group of five seniors were standing in the entrance of the row, blocking the way. He tried to squeeze by them, but one of them shifted and closed the opening. Frustrated, Arnold finally pushed his way through them and quickly ran down the rest of the row to the evens. He reached the end of the wall and finally his locker, and found Lon leaning up on the other side it.

Arnold slowed his pace to a nonchalant walk and quickly stepped in front of locker number thirty-eight, his back turned to Lon. He opened up the plastic door and started putting his P.E. clothes in order.

_Just real quick, in and out. He won't even mess with you if you don't mess with him. _

"Well isn't this just fucking awesome? I had a good locker over in the senior section and now I've gotta be around all these damn _freshmen,_" Lon said gruffly.

Arnold clenched his teeth and continued getting changed, pretending not to hear.

"Hey! I'm talking to you Football Face!" Lon said kicking the side of his locker.

Arnold turned around quickly, still avoiding Lon's eyes. "Oh, uh…yeah, it's pretty dumb,"

"You know you're not invisible to me. I know who you are," Lon said.

Arnold continued getting his new locker in order, working as fast as he could.

"You're all the same. Think you're crusin' _under the radar, _what a joke," Lon said sourly.

He squinted his eyes at Arnold. "Hey. You hang out with that little shit Curley don't you?" Lon said stepping forward.

"Oh, no I…" Arnold started.

"Um, excuse me, is this locker thirty-six?"

Both Arnold and Lon stopped and looked out at the entrance of the row. A small brown haired kid had come up to them, holding his P.E. clothes in both hands. He was staring at the two like a deer in headlights.

"Yeah it's right here," Arnold said, stepping back.

The kid stepped forward and opened the plastic door.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the little _artiste,_" Lon said, walking forward and slamming the kid's locker door closed.

"Hey!"

Arnold clenched his teeth. _I hate guys like this. He just moves from person to person, being just mean. Why does he have to act like that? Life's hard enough as it is. What an ass. _

"You think you're so damn special don't you? Maybe you can pull that _I have a different inspiration for my work _crap with Coach Hoskins," Lon said.

"I'm still doing it just like you are!" the kid said.

"Bullshit," Lon said.

He jutted out his forearm and slammed the freshman into the locker wall. Lon then reached down and grabbed the shirt out of his locker and flung it on top of the row.

"You watch yourself out there," Lon said walking slowly out of the row and to the blacktop.

Arnold stepped up on the bench on the side of the row and grabbed the shirt from the top of the locker. He tossed it back to the freshman who was now rubbing his arm.

"You okay?" Arnold asked.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Thanks. I'm Connor, by the way," Connor said, holding out a timid hand.

"Arnold. So what was all that about?" He said shaking Connor's hand.

"Sculpture 1. I don't know why he's even in it. He's the only senior in the whole class,"

"Yeah he does that," Arnold said slamming his locker door shut.

The two walked slowly out of the locker room and toward the track.

"We were supposed to make something for our moms for a Mother's day present right? But I wanted to do something different so the teacher's letting me make something that's more my style and vision. Something I…something I know she would've liked," Connor said proudly.

"That's pretty cool. So that doesn't count as the assignment though?" Arnold asked.

"Well, not really. I…I don't really have a mom, so usually this holiday sucks for me and I always end up doing something really lame and random," Connor said.

"Oh. I…I'm sorry," Arnold said quietly, slowing his pace.

"It's kind of heavy, sorry for bringing it up," Connor said speeding up, passing Arnold.

"No, it's…I know what you mean. So what's the project?" Arnold asked, smiling.

Connor grinned. "Clay and lead paint. It's pretty dangerous but the color is amazing. I'm making my interpretation of what she would have been, or I guess what she means to me. That make sense?"

"Yeah. I think I know what you mean" Arnold said.

Arnold caught up to Connor and the two walked out on the track. The fog was finally starting to clear up.

* * *

><p>As it turned out, Hoskins did have his class run, and by the end of the period Arnold started to feel a whole lot better, happy even. He was breathing hard but smiling as he rounded the last lap and started his cool down lap. For the first time all day, his mind was finally leaving him alone and that was just fine by him. As Arnold started heading back up the path to the locker room, he couldn't help but notice the small kid that had been on his tail the entire period. He turned around spotted Connor a few paces behind him.<p>

Connor looked behind him and then smiled slightly. "Hey Arnold,"

"Still worried about Lon?" Arnold said.

"Oh, well…maybe?" Connor said.

"Just don't talk back to him and you should be fine. I don't think he hates you more than anybody else," Arnold said.

Connor nodded. They walked up to the propped open locker room door and walked in. Fresh sweat mixed in with old shoes and soap, battling each other for the prominent stink. A heavy fog of steam from the shower room hung in the air, humidifying the whole damp complex. Arnold walked down their row and swung his locker open. He glanced around for sight of Lon but he was nowhere to be found. Satisfied, he grabbed a towel and headed for the showers, determined to get in and out before the lines got too long. Once he had started to come down from the run, he started to realize just how tired he really was. When he headed back for his locker, he was starting to doze off. Still though, he considered it a great improvement over the morning.

Lon had come back in finally, and was leaning up against the side of his locker. Arnold walked over and started to change, keeping his head down like before. Lon kicked the locker door next to him hard on the padlock; it jammed and the door swung open. He reached down and grabbed the owner's P.E. shirt a can of Axe body spray. He tossed the shirt over the top of the locker rows and took the Axe can and shoved it in the vent holes of Connor's locker. He pulled the trigger and held it, smiling at Arnold as the sides of Connor's locker began to smoke with the noxious fresh new _phoenix_ scent.

"Don't want him stinking up the place huh?" Lon said mockingly.

Arnold shook his head and went back to what he was doing. Connor came around the corner with a towel wrapped around his waist. Lon leaned back and grinned at him.

"Bet you enjoyed that shower didn't you, you little faggot" Lon said through yellow teeth.

Connor didn't respond and bent down to work the combination on the locker. The lock snapped out, door swung open, and the contents of an entire can of freshly vaporized Axe flooded out into his face.

"Aw what the hell!" Connor said, coughing.

"You got a problem with smelling nice?" Lon yelled.

He pushed Connor hard on the shoulder and sent him flying into the open locker.

"Lay off him," Arnold said, turning around.

"Oh I'm sorry, are you invited to this conversation? You know you're lucky I don't kick the shit out of you right now," Lon said.

"He's got three more years of this stuff, you're done in like a month or two," Arnold said.

"All the more reason," Lon said pushing Connor back down.

The bell rang, shooting out over the mess of sounds in the locker room. Lon turned his head slightly and then focused back on his victims.

"Guess that's my que. You better watch it Football Face," Lon said, walking out of the row. "And you. I'll be seeing you later," He said, pointing to Connor.

Connor finally stepped up out of his locker and rubbed the back of his head. "Thanks again. I guess I owe you one,"

"Man I really can't stand people like him. Are you okay?" Arnold said, grabbing his backpack.

"Yeah I'm alright. This is turning out to be one long class though," Connor said.

"Well, at least school will be out in a month right?" Arnold said, throwing on a small smile.

"Yeah. Well, I'll see you on Monday I guess," Connor said walking out of the locker room.

Arnold snapped his lock shut and headed out toward his next class.

* * *

><p>Arnold coasted through his next two classes, not really paying much attention to what was said. The confrontation with Lon in the locker room had put him back in a sour mood, with a major difference being that he was really starting to feel the lack of sleep from the night before. Fourth period calculus was open seating, so he took a seat in the back of the classroom and zoned out. He kept running Lon's words over and over in his head, getting more and more angry with each rehash. He went from feeling helpless to feeling mad at himself for not standing up and doing something.<p>

_Someone really needs to teach that bastard a lesson. I bet he's never been challenged before in his life and that's why he can act like that. Him and Wolfgang should go out and have lunch sometime. _

He instantly scolded himself for that thought. Everyone had problems, he knew that more than most. He also knew that it was the ones with the most intense problems that turned into the Lons and Wolfgangs of the world.

_What does he have to deal with that makes him act like that? Why violence over something else? _

And then there was Connor. It had really surprised Arnold to meet somebody else with the same issue that he himself had, and for that somebody else to be so fine with it.

_Here I am getting myself down all morning and he's putting it to good use. Why haven't I tried that yet? I could write a song maybe? Yeah, if I had a damn piano. _He thought bitterly.

The bell rang, ripping him out of his thoughts. He closed his notebook, out on the desk just for show, and blended in with the line of people heading out the door. Arnold made his way over to the quad and went straight for the snack shop line. He hadn't really eaten anything that morning and he was starving. He got into line and glanced up at the menu, deciding what he wanted.

"You know, I always figured you for a paper bag, sandwich crusts cut off kind of guy," A voice said from behind him.

He turned around and saw that Helga had come up from behind him in the line.

"Oh hey Helga. I guess I didn't have time to make my PB&J and graham crackers this morning," Arnold said smiling.

"And animal crackers for desert I'm sure?" Helga chided.

"Always," Arnold said. "Oh hey listen, sorry if I was kind of short this morning, I just had some…stuff on my mind,"

Helga smiled, and then smirked and crossed her arms. "Well here I was thinking you were actually going to grow a pair and stand up for yourself for once. Looks like you're still can't get enough of me huh?"

"_Me_, get tired of _you_? Why would I _ever_ do that?" Arnold said sarcastically. "Still though, sorry if I was weird,"

"Alright alright, don't get all mushy on me. Apology accepted," Helga said.

"Turns out you were right though, about gym class I mean," Arnold said, stepping up to the counter window.

He ordered a turkey sandwich and stepped aside to fish for his wallet.

"Oh yeah, how's that?" Helga said, stepping up next to him.

"We switched lockers, and he's right next to me. Tried to start something when he recognized that he'd seen me around Curley," Arnold said, handing a twenty to the shop worker.

"Oh man. Well I see you're still alive so I guess you managed to escape," Helga said, throwing down a ten on the counter top.

"If you say so. Well, at least it'll only be for a month or two. Maybe we'll even switch lockers again," Arnold said, unwrapping the corner of his prepackaged sandwich.

"Always the optimist huh? Well hopefully he doesn't kill you, then I'd have to find somebody else to pick on, and you're too much fun," Helga said, pushing Arnold on the arm.

"Thanks…I guess," Arnold said.

"Well Football Head, I gotta get to the library and meet up with Pheebs. Not that I'm not _enthralled_ by this little heart to heart we're having, but I'll have to catch you later," Helga said, throwing the bagel she bought in her backpack.

Arnold sighed. "Whatever you say Helga, seeya later,"

"Be careful out there," She said and walked off into the lunch-time crowd.

Arnold smiled and shook his head, walking over to a bench. He glanced at his watch and sat down, waiting for the lunch period to get over with so he could be one step closer to going home. Maybe he'd actually be able to get some decent sleep this time around.

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed Chapter 2. If you liked it, or not, please read and review as the saying goes. Thanks for sticking with it, you guys are awesome!<strong>**-AG**

**Chapter 3: The Fight- 8/19/11**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's your latest. [Stay Tuned for an important message at the end of this chapter!]**

**CHAPTER 3: The Fight**

Before he knew it, the bell was chiming off behind him and signaling the end of lunch. Arnold smiled and threw away his sandwich wrapper.

_One step closer to getting home! _He thought happily as he stood up.

Given all that had happened in the morning, he was surprised that the day seemed to blow by so quickly. It seemed like it had only been ten minutes ago that he was staring face to face with the most notorious bully Hillwood High School had ever seen. A tinge of anger and frustration washed over him as he thought about the encounter again.

_That guy. Someday he's going to piss somebody off so much, they're not going to stand for it anymore. Either that or we'll get a new and bigger bully. _Arnold shook his head. The never ending cycle of bully and prey fascinated him sometimes. He sighed and set out for his next class, World History.

He reached the classroom on the outside edge of the campus and walked into the dimly lit room. He slowly took his seat by the window and waited for class to start. He was struggling to keep his eyes open after falling victim to the post-lunch fatigue and was not looking forward to the imminent lecture. The bell rang and the teacher, a tall lanky man with red hair and large Coke-bottle glasses, stepped out from his desk and took his place in the front of the room.

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. What we're doing today people is watching a fantastic documentary I found a few weeks ago on the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand. After that we'll compare notes and see how that fits in with the mobilization of the rest of Europe before the war. Sound good? Good," the teacher said dryly, turning around to yank the projector screen down.

Arnold shifted in his seat as the projector above his head came to life.

_This is going to be tough. Gotta stay awake. Mr. Langly hates it when people fall asleep. _

The _PBS International _logo popped up on screen, followed by a MIDI orchestra playing its accompanying intro music.

"Lights!" Mr. Langly said from behind his desk. "Now this doc is only about thirty-five minutes, which leaves us quite a bit of time afterward to talk about it,"

_Great. _

The lights went out and the commentator started reading his script, accompanied by black and white images of trenches, dead bodies, and computer generated flag-on-map montages.

"_All nations in the old European empires were arming for war. The pieces were set, and all they waited for was the first move. The playing board would be the entire continent…" _The commentator rattled on in a sharp British accent

Ten minutes in and Arnold already felt himself dozing off. He shifted around in his seat once again, trying desperately to fight the sleep that was overtaking him.

"_The culmination of growing political strain came to a catastrophic point in Sarajevo in the provinces of Bosnia and Herzegovina," _

Arnold shifted again, moving his head around trying to stay awake.

"_They flew a small bi-plane to their destination in San Lorenzo, but sadly would never make it back to the United States. Some say that the wreckage would probably be found off the coast of Brazil…" _

Arnold glanced up and saw a small bi-plane and a blue hat flying by the edge of the screen. He looked around and saw other students looking intently at the screen.

"_Miles and Stella Short left their linage with their only son, Arnold Philip Short, who…" _

"Mom?" Arnold said to the screen.

"_Arnold?"_

"Mom!" He said, rocketing his head up and looking around.

The classroom was fully lit and credits were rolling on the projector screen. His classmates snickered and looked over at him. Standing next to him was a very annoyed looking Mr. Langly.

"I am definitely not your mother Mr. Short. Although maybe I should send you down to the office and call her. I'm sure she'd be very interested to hear that her son finds sleep more important than the First World War," Langly said.

Arnold stared back at him.

"Well, should we do that? Hmm?" Langly said, furiously tapping his foot.

"I…no," Arnold started, looking down at his desk.

"Sweet heavens. Alright go to the restroom or something and come back when you have a little more blood flowing through you. Then _maybe_ you'll find it worthwhile to pay attention," Langly said walking back to the front of the class.

Arnold sat in his desk a moment, still looking down at the pressed wood surface.

"Well, go on! And don't take too long, we've got a lot to cover today" Langly said.

Several kids snickered as Arnold stood up and opened the door. He started walking down the side of D building, not caring where his feet decided to take him. He shuffled along, watching as his shoes padded in front of him feeling as if they were completely unrelated to the rest of his body.

_What I would give to go to the office and be able to call them. Calling from the vice principal's office would be the best damn phone call I would ever make. I wonder what it sounds like when they get mad?_

He kept on walking and found himself toward the back side of campus, next to the loading docks and the furnaces. A small green slatted fence shielded the outdoor machinery from view and led up to the art and science building. Arnold heard voices from the other side of the fence and perked his head up.

"What the hell is that thing? You're actually going to try to pass that piece of shit off?" A voice yelled.

"Leave me alone! It's just like…hey!"

"You really are a cocky little shit aren't you?"

Arnold turned toward the fence and rounded the other side. At the back entrance of the art building, Lon stood blocking Connor up against the corner of the wall. Connor was cradling a small fired clay sculpture. It had a shimmering cobalt and purple base, shaped like a nautilus shell, with seven fiery orange and red spikes twisting up from the center. The paint caught the mid-afternoon sunlight and made the entire piece jump to life; Arnold had little doubt as to what the sculpture was, and was genuinely surprised that a high school kid could make something that beautiful.

Lon stepped forward and shoved Connor on the shoulder, slamming him into the wall. Connor braced his body around the sculpture to try to protect it.

"You stuck up artsy pricks are all the same. You think you can just slide by without doing _anything_," Lon growled angrily.

"No that's not…" Connor started.

"Yeah well guess what? That shit might go down in Grossler's class, but out here that's not going to happen," Lon said clenching his fist.

Connor looked from side to side frantically, clenching his sculpture tighter. Arnold gritted his teeth; he had just about had enough of bullies for one day. He jogged toward the two.

"Hey! Leave him alone!" Arnold shouted.

Lon turned around and sneered. "Well, if it isn't the football headed vigilante, come to save the day,"

"Come on Lon, he didn't do anything to you," Arnold said, giving himself a good amount of space between the much larger Lon.

"Oh _come_ _on_. You pussies are exactly the same aren't you? Whine and whine but never have the guts to show anything. And _this_ motherfucker…" Lon said reaching out and punching Connor in the shoulder. "This guy has to go and pull out _my mom is different because she's dead_. Pathetic,"

"Hey! You leave that out of it!" Arnold yelled taking a step forward.

"Or what? You gonna call your daddy? Oh wait, you can't can you? You orphan boys really piss me off you know that?" Lon said leering.

"Arnold just go. He's not worth it," Connor said.

Lon turned around and shoved Connor all the way against the wall. "Man shut up!"

He reached in and grabbed Connor's sculpture and threw it on the ground. The intricate clay spires exploded out on the pavement in one final fiery burst of brilliant red and orange. Connor stepped forward and bent down. He reached his hand out slowly and touched one of the broken shards of his work. He looked slowly back up at Lon.

"Whops" Lon said smiling.

Arnold snapped. He drew in a breath. If he had any conscience or reasoning to hold him back against what he was about to do, it was now completely flooded by anger. His entire body seemed to be on auto-pilot as he stepped forward and threw his fist out toward Lon's face. It connected square against his jaw and sent Lon stumbling backward in surprise.

"You know what? You think you're all tough and mean, pushing us around all the time and just being…being an asshole! You kind of guys are all the same; just big, dumb, and scared. You act all hard but that's just to cover up that you don't know what the hell you're doing any more than we do!" Arnold yelled at Lon.

"Look at yourself! You're almost twenty years old and still in high school? How pathetic can you get? You know, I might not have a dad, but at least I don't have one like yours. At least I was taught to know what's right. You say you're tough? I don't buy it," Arnold said, staring right at Lon.

Lon blushed and looked down and then to Connor, who was staring up at the two like a deer in headlights. He then flicked his small yellow eyes over to the door; a few other kids had come out of their classrooms at the sound of the commotion, and were now staring out the window at the scene. His head felt heavy and he could taste blood in his mouth from where the skinny sophomore kid had just nailed him in the jaw.

Arnold continued to stare at Lon. To Connor and the other onlookers, it looked like intense anger and concentration; to Arnold it was sheer shock and confusion.

_Did I really just say that? To Lon? _

_What do I do now? _

Lon gritted his teeth.

Arnold continued to consider his options of how to retreat, and registered Lon's face twisting into a snarl far too late. A heavy fist flew through the air and connected dead on to the side of Arnold's head. Lon followed it up quickly with an uppercut to Arnold's jaw and a jab right in his nose. Arnold came to his senses and ducked under the third blow. He clenched his fists and hit Lon with two quick jabs to his stomach. Lon heaved and stumbled backward as the blows connected directly to his ribs. Arnold took the opportunity and moved in, throwing another punch out at Lon's face and a quick second to his shoulder. The first landed square on his jaw; the second right to his collar bone. Lon fell backward into the side of the building, dazed.

A stern grip clamped itself around Arnold's shoulder and rocketed him forward into building next to Lon.

"You stay right there!" A voice growled in his ear.

Arnold flattened himself up against the building as the grip loosened. The teacher who had came running outside at the sound of yelling let go of Arnold and put himself in front of Lon, who was trying to recover and get back in the fight.

"You still think I'm not so tough? I'll fucking kill you!" Lon shouted loosely, flinging blood out of his mouth.

Another teacher and a janitor came out from the building and grabbed Lon. The two of them each took one of his arms and dragged him toward the main office. The first one turned his attention back to Arnold.

"Alright let's go!" He said, grabbing Arnold's arm.

The two of them followed silently behind a still kicking and squirming Lon.

* * *

><p>His head felt hot and he was dizzy. The cold ice pack burned against the side of his throbbing face. The polyester mesh chairs of the vice principal's office made his back itch but he was too sore to shift around. Arnold stared down at the pressed industrial carpet, half listening to the dull office chatter. He glanced up occasionally at the receptionist who was still staring daggers at him from behind her small desk. They had taken him into the first vice principal's office while Lon had gone to straight to the principal, he assumed; he hadn't really paid much attention. A freshmen walked in through the main office and entered the vice principal's corner, handing some papers to the receptionist. He glanced sideways at Arnold, trying overly hard to be discreet. He coughed awkwardly and looked down at his shoes, and then the ceiling, and then back at the receptionist who was taking her time filing whatever it was that needed attention. Arnold had passed by this office many times in his short time at Hillwood High School, and had seen many dejected souls occupy the dreaded <em>waiting chair row. <em>He would always try to avoid looking but inevitably stole a poorly hidden glance at the delinquents awaiting their sentencing. He let out a small laugh that came out as a gargled cough; it was somehow pretty funny that he, of all people, was now the subject of this morbid circus act. He always thought those kids looked to be horribly ashamed or depressed. What he discovered now though, was that was just what he was projecting and probably nothing to do with actuality. Arnold didn't feel ashamed or depressed, in fact he didn't feel much of anything; he was numb, sitting in a small fabricated seat waiting for the next step. Nothing more.

_I wonder what that kid thinks about me? Maybe he'll end up here next. _

The door to the main office swung open and Arnold heard a familiar voice ask where Vice Principal Jack Learly's office was. His grandfather walked in a moment later and strolled up to the receptionist's desk. He winked at Arnold as he waited to be acknowledged.

"You here for this one?" The receptionist said, nodding towards Arnold.

"Could be," Phil said smiling.

The receptionist returned his smile with an annoyed sneer. "Yes, yes I am," Phil finished quickly.

"Just a moment, I'll let Mr. Learly know you're here," She said.

Phil turned around and sat down next to Arnold. Arnold kept his head down, not looking up from the carpet. His mouth still tasted like the sweet and sour metal of blood. A few moments later the door at the center of the room opened and a tall stocky man with short cropped hair stepped out.

"Alright Mr. Short and Mr. Short the Younger, why don't you step into my office?" Mr. Learly said.

Arnold stood up stiffly from his seat and walked across the room into the small dimly lit office, with Phil following behind. The office was neatly organized with file folders and oak furniture, giving it a stark contrast from the generic office ware of the lobby. It dawned on Arnold that he had never actually been inside this office before. He rocked his head up slowly and looked around through his puffed up eye. There were several degrees on the wall, two of which were from MIT: a baccalaureate and master's in biochemical engineering.

_How did he end up as a vice principal here? _

"Well, as I told you briefly over the phone Mr. Short, Arnold was involved in a rather serious scuff outside the arts and sciences building," Learly said before Arnold could think anymore on the subject.

"Now as I'm sure you _both _know…fighting in any form is strictly discouraged here and the usual punishment is an automatic week's suspension. What do you have to say for yourself young man?" Learly said.

Arnold coughed and looked up shyly. "I…I'm not really sure what to say. He's…Lon's a bully" Arnold said softly.

Learly smiled slightly and leaned forward. "You're not a bad kid Arnold. Can't make a case against it on paper and I've known you well enough here to agree. Honestly I was quite surprised when your name popped up in my office, but when I saw that Mr. Silver was involved as well, it started to answer some questions," Learly said.

He stood up and went to the filing cabinet behind his desk.

"Still though, fighting is a serious issue and I do have to do _something_. So what I'm going to do is send you home and call this a three day suspension, even though it's the weekend. That way on paper it looks like we have taken action but you won't have to miss any class; it won't show up on any of your records, just the local school files. I don't like punishing people that don't deserve it Arnold, and I'm taking a chance with you. I absolutely never want to see you sitting in that chair outside my office again, you understand?" Learly said.

Arnold nodded as best as he could. His neck was getting quite stiff. Learly grabbed some papers and sat back down.

"Now Mr. Short, I trust you'll agree with me that this is a serious offence and shouldn't be taken too lightly?" Learly said.

"Oh absolutely. It's quite serious and his grandmother and I will make sure to punish him severely. He'll be begging to come back to school on Monday!" Phil said.

"Alright then. Well thank you for coming in and getting him. I'll see you on Monday Arnold," Learly said standing up.

He shook Phil's hand and patted Arnold gently on the shoulder as they walked out of the office.

"You can send Lon in now Ms. Shirley, and give Officer Luball a call if you would. I'm sure he'd love to have a chat with us," Learly called out as Phil and Arnold left.

"My pleasure," Mr. Shirley said.

* * *

><p>Hope you enjoyed Chapter 3. If so, drop me a line and tell me about it! I read them all and greatly appreciate the feedback. A bit on the short side this week, but next week will be quite a bit longer (and possibly contain an epilogue).<p>

**The Important Message: **

**I've decided that for my next story, I want to see what you guys are thinking of! I wouldn't be able to write these things without all of you out there, and I want to see what kind of interesting and awesome ideas are floating around in your heads. If you have an idea that you think would make for an interesting short story, and you would like me to write it of course, PM me a brief synopsis and I'll give it a look over. I'll take a look at everything and post the 'winner', so to speak, after next week's chapter. The sky is the limit in terms of ideas, but I do tend to stick with Hey Arnold related stuff. I'm really looking forward to seeing what you can come up with! -AG **

**(If you want to submit an idea, make sure you PM me before 1am-ish [PST] next friday, the 26th. I wouldn't want to miss it!)**

Chapter 4 (and possibly 5): The Open Skies 8/26/11


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: The Open Skies**

Arnold walked out toward the parking lot with his grandpa a few paces behind him. He shuffled over to the old beat up green Packard, double parked in the teacher's lot. He kept on waiting for Phil to say something but he never did; silence filled the air between them. Arnold opened the door and slid in the passenger's seat. The warm white leather felt good, and was quite a nice change from the scratchy stitching of the Vice Principal's chairs. Phil got in the car and started up the engine. Arnold grabbed one of the vents and blew it on his face. His head was starting to feel a little better but his stomach was still churning.

"So did you win?" Phil asked.

"I…can we just leave it grandpa?" Arnold said.

"Leave what? We haven't even started talking," Phil said.

"Please?"

"Alright fine, suit yourself," Phil said turning on Main Street headed back toward the Sunset Arms.

The car drove on for a while and Arnold kept his eyes locked outside. His eyes wanted to look at his grandpa but his head refused. His stomach was tumbling with a mix of defeat, shame, and sadness; he didn't know which one he should feel the most. It was starting to sink in just what had happened, and what he had done. He had never been to the Vice Principal's office for even something as little as ditching class, and now he was on his way home after being technically 'suspended'. The three emotions continued to churn, one not letting the other take dominance for longer than a few seconds.

"Are you mad at me?" Arnold finally asked.

He cut his eyes over to his grandpa. Phil's jaw twitched up in a small smile.

"Are you kidding? I never thought I'd have the honor of coming and getting you from the principal's office. I'd been saving up that speech for years!" Phil said triumphantly.

Arnold shifted and kept his head pressed against the window.

"So what did he do?" Phil asked.

Arnold kept quiet. His face felt like it was heating up.

"I mean, he had to have done something to get you all riled up. At least enough to fight back," Phil continued.

"He's just a jerk alright?" Arnold said softly.

"So you just go around beating up jerks? Must have been quite a jerk to break out Pookie's martial arts training on him hmm?" Phil said smirking.

Arnold brought his hand up to his face. It felt like it was on fire. Lon's face flashed through his mind again and he thought of Connor. He saw his mom and dad's faces in the broken clay and a sudden swell of anger overtook him again.

Arnold turned in his seat. "He's an asshole okay? He's a jerk that won't shut up and kept on going!" Arnold yelled. "He kept on pushing me and pushing me, and then he broke Connor's statue. That was all he had!"

Phil jumped back a bit at the outburst and Arnold turned back to the window. He felt a lump in his throat and he drew in a shaky breath past it.

"I…I'm just tired of it always being about…about them" Arnold said. "He kept on pushing me and when he brought up mom and dad I…,"

His voice sounded funny to him. It was getting harder to breath and he felt pressure in his face. A tear slid down his cheek and stung as it hit his swollen lip.

"He brought up mom and I…I just miss them so much," Arnold said.

He felt tears streaming down the sides of his face. He wanted to stop but it felt good to let the pressure go.

"They never meant to leave you. You know that they…," Phil started softly.

"You think I don't know that? It doesn't change anything. They're still not here," Arnold said angrily.

Phil made the turn into the driveway of the boarding house and cut the engine. He rocked his head slowly down and let out a slow breath.

"Arnold…,"

"I'm tired of being alone! It's always the same, at the end of the day I'm just the same old orphan boy!" Arnold yelled.

He snapped open the door and ran inside. His head was pounding and his shoulder was on fire, but all that mattered was putting one foot in front of the other. He wanted to be alone, he wanted the day to stop. He heard his grandpa calling out to him but the words just smashed up against his skull. Arnold's body was on auto-pilot.

He bounded up the stairs and yanked the cord to the attic stairs up to his room. He rushed in and slammed the door behind him and stared at the knob. Suddenly it was quiet. The turmoil of his mind had stopped and there was no more outside noise, no more pressure for conversation; it was just the familiar quiet of his room. He dropped down on the foldout couch by the door, still looking at the handle. He saw the morphed reflection of himself in the gold handle, the alternate version staring back at him in silence. He felt his breath quicken and the knob blurred out. He fell against the cushion sobbing. Arnold felt all the pain and worry of the day pouring out and he did nothing to stop it. It was quiet and he was alone.

He hadn't moved from his spot on the couch and his back was starting to get stiff. He felt absolutely exhausted. A small knock came from the other side of the door. He sniffed and wiped at his eyes, as if it would magically cover up everything.

"Come in," He said.

His voice was small and crackly. Phil came in and sat down on the couch next to Arnold, and put a hand on his shoulder. Arnold kept his head down and shut his eyes as a new batch of tears welled up.

"I miss them too. Your dad…he was my little boy. God how I miss him. I see so much of him in you, you know? It was strange when you were younger, to look in your eyes and see the same look that he had," Phil said softly.

Arnold coughed. "I just wish I knew if they were dead. I don't even care anymore, I just want to know so I can get on with my life,"

Phil nodded slowly. The both of them sat there for awhile, not saying anything. The sun had started to set and the skylight was splashed in bright orange and pink. Arnold shifted again, he couldn't feel his leg.

"How long have you been all twisted up like that?" Phil said.

"Dunno," Arnold said.

"Comfortable?"

"Kinda"

Phil nodded and looked up at the skylight.

"Not really no" Arnold said smiling slightly.

Phil laughed and stood up. "Well come on, let's get you up,"

He grabbed Arnold's shoulder and helped him stand up. The two walked slowly over to the bed and Arnold slowly and stiffly sat down. He laid down and shut his eyes; suddenly he felt extremely tired and the pillow against his head felt like a cool sip of water on a hot day. Phil grabbed a blanket from the edge of the bed and draped it over Arnold.

"I'm sorry…about before. I know I'm not alone," Arnold said.

"It's okay Shortman. We'll always stick together," Phil said.

He crossed the room and opened the door. "Just yell down if you need anything. Get some rest slugger," Phil said smiling.

He shut the door softly behind him. Arnold looked up at the orange and pink sky, the soft strings of clouds pitching high above the city. His eyes started to become heavy and he slowly closed them. The sun drifted down toward the horizon, and just as he was drifting asleep, Arnold could have sword he heard the sound of a bi-plane, dominating the clouds thousands of miles away.

* * *

><p>He woke up and looked around his room. The sky was milky white with a thick fog completely covering the glass top to his room. He got up and opened the door, looking down into the hall. The lights were off and even though he had walked down the long wooden hallway thousands of times in the course of his life, something made it seem incredibly freighting and foreboding.<p>

"Grandpa?" Arnold said.

He slowly inched into the hallway, walking slowly down the stairs as if they would snap under his weight any minute.

"Grandpa?" Arnold called out again.

The rest of the house remained quiet as he continued down the stairs and out into the hallway. Arnold walked down the stairs and looked into the kitchen.

"Is anybody here?" Arnold asked.

The kitchen was quiet. A newspaper and a still steaming cup of coffee sat at one of the places on the table. He walked out into the parlor and found the front door open. The entire street was covered in the thick fog from the roof. Arnold paused at the door and looked out to the street. The fog was so think he couldn't see farther than a few feet in front of him.

"Arnold!" A voice called out.

He perked his head up and strained to look through the fog. "Hello?"

"Arnold!" The voice was further away now.

He stepped out off the stoop and walked out into the fog toward the sound of the voice. He strained his eyes to try to see something, anything though the fog. He was used to the street and it was for that reason alone he kept his bearings; the entire world seemed familiar but completely strange, a mirrored version of reality. He walked out into the middle of the street and saw a great yellow plank, sticking straight out in the fog. Arnold went over to it and saw that it was a wing attached to a bi-plane. He ran his hand slowly over the fuselage as he walked up to the bucket seats of the cockpit. The brown crackled leather was faded with use and felt surprisingly warm. The entire plane smelled like rainwater and incense. He looked inside at the gages and saw that his picture had been tucked next to one of the dials. He touched the picture softly and closed his eyes.

"I knew you'd find your way out here," the voice said from behind him.

He spun around and fell slightly against the side of the plain. His mother was standing a few yards away, dressed in a flight jacket with a thick white scarf wrapped around her neck.

"You…you came back?" Arnold said hopefully.

He felt a swell of happiness but something about it was wrong. It didn't feel real.

"You know that's not true," Stella said.

"So then, you're still…" Arnold said, more confirming than questioning.

His mother nodded slightly. She smiled softly at him and walked over to stand next to him.

Arnold looked over at her and tried a weak smile. Stella grinned and hugged him.

"I still can't believe how big you've gotten! And quite handsome too. Last thing I remember you were just a baby, crawling around everywhere, with that big blue hat," Stella said brightly.

"I never took it off," Arnold said softly.

"It always was a perfect fit on you," She said.

They stood there for a while, leaning up against the plane. He didn't want to break the silence; he was afraid that if he even moved a muscle everything around his would shatter and go back to the way it was. There was a soft wind rustling through trees, even though he knew the closest park was at least ten blocks from his house. It was a nice sound and standing there, against the cold chrome of the bi-plane, everything just felt right.

"I miss you. And Dad," Arnold finally said.

Stella was silent. She looked at her son and then to the ground.

"You're not coming back, are you?" Arnold said.

"We both love you so much, and you know we never really left you. You might not be able to see us every day, but we'll always be here for you. You have to know that," Stella said.

Arnold was silent for a moment.

"I know it isn't much, and you think you deserve more. You do Arnold, you really do. We wanted to do so much for you, it just…it just couldn't have happened," Stella said. "We let you down,".

He thought for a moment and then started to smile.

"No. You know it's…it's okay," He said.

He looked at his mother smiled warmly. "You know I found Dad's journal, and read about all the stuff that you guys do. About the Green Eyed People, and…it was awesome. I used to get really angry when I saw kids with their families or one of my friends went out and did stuff with their mom and dad. When I think about it though, their parents are dentists and plumbers and paper pushers. You guys saved an entire civilization from extinction," Arnold said.

He pushed himself off the side of the plain and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'd rather you guys be sewer cleaners if it meant I could have you back, but it's pretty cool to say your mom and dad saved a tribe from being wiped out. So I…I know why you had to leave," Arnold said.

His mother stepped off the plane as well and walked up next to him.

"But you can't keep thinking about us and let it get you down. You've turned into such a wonderful and caring young man, and I can't tell you how proud I am of you. I can't wait to hear about what you've done in the next ten years. But you have to go do it, don't let us keep you down. You don't have to let us go, but stop letting the past control your life," Stella said.

"I know. I won't Mom. I promise," Arnold said.

They hugged and this time, the happiness that swelled over Arnold was the truest he had felt in a long time.

"What, no love for me?" Miles said, walking around the other side of the plane.

"Dad!" Arnold said, and ran over to Miles.

"Come on, let's go for a ride," Miles said, handing Arnold a pair of goggles.

Arnold's face lit up as the three of them hopped in the seats of the plain.

"Oh and Arnold, I know that guy at school was a jerk and everything, but if you get in another fight on account of us, I'll find _some_ way of coming back home so I can ground you till you're eighteen, got it?" Miles said.

Arnold laughed as he buckled his seatbelt tight. "I know, I know. You got it Dad,"

"Alright then. Now let's get out of this fog!" Miles said as he started the engine.

The propellers erupted to life and the small plane rocketed toward the sky. It blasted through the fog and the entire grey mass shattered like glass, making way for a vivid sunset that stretched for miles in all directions. Orange and pink shattered through the sky, lighting up the world with fiery light. The earth seemed leagues away as the little plane flew higher and higher. A soft warm wind blew Arnold's hair back as they tore through the heavens and he felt his eyes become heavy. He felt himself becoming tired, more tired than he had ever felt before.

He heard himself shouting out against the wind. "No! I don't want to leave yet!"

"It'll be alright Arnold, I promise. Remember you'll always be with us. Always," his dad said.

"We never really left you remember? We love you so much," his mom said.

He heard himself shouting out again but it was washed away by the sound of the wind and the propellers. The plane flew up, higher and higher, and started to cross a vast ocean that looked like little more than a blue speck. Arnold looked down and saw waves crashing gently against a pearly white beach. His eyes felt so heavy and each second was fighting to keep them open. The sound of the waves grew and he felt the salty mist softly spray against his face. He heard the sound of his parent's voice once more, and finally let his eyes close and drift off to sleep.

* * *

><p>Arnold woke up to the sun breaking in through the glass ceiling and splashing warmly on his face. He smiled up at the clouds and sat up slowly. His face was sore and his entire body was stiff from the fight the night before. He sighed contently and looked around his room. Everything seemed brighter in the room, but Arnold knew it wasn't just from the sun. He opened the small drawer next to his bed and took out the photo of his parents.<p>

"Hey Mom, Hey Dad," he said warmly.

Arnold smiled back at their faces. "I won't forget guys,"

He stood up stiffly and walked over to his dresser. He rubbed the back of his neck gingerly.

_Aw man. Getting beat up really takes it out of you doesn't it?_

He turned and walked down the stairs to the bathroom, and that's when he remembered that he didn't really get beat up. In fact, he turned the tables and won in a fight against the most feared bully at Hillwood High. Arnold walked into the bathroom and laughed when he saw himself in the mirror. His eye had swollen up and turned a dark blue-black and his lip was busted and puffed up.

_I look ridiculous. Maybe I can say I fell out of a tree or something_.

Arnold started the shower water and laughed again.

_As if everybody doesn't know already. That was a pretty big crowd there yesterday. I hope nobody gives me a stupid nickname like slugger or killer or something like that. _

He stepped and let the hot water get to work on the soreness from the day before.

* * *

><p>Arnold walked down the stairs toward the kitchen, rubbing air into his hair. The shower loosened up the tension in his back and neck and he was feeling even better than he had when he woke up. He walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Phil was leaning in the fridge again and popped his head out when he heard Arnold enter.<p>

"Well morning there killer!" Phil said.

"Morning Grandpa," Arnold sighed.

Phil poured a glass or orange juice and sat it down in front of his grandson. "So how you feeling this morning?"

Arnold smiled. "Good. I had…had some good dreams,"

Phil nodded.

"Yeah I'm sorry about everything yesterday. It was a rough day," Arnold said.

"Ah don't worry about it Shortman. Happens to the best of us," Phil said.

Phil turned back to the fridge. "Oh, Gerald called. Something about dinner tonight. I didn't know how you'd be feeling so I told him you'd have to call him back," Phil said.

"Oh right. Did he say anything about yesterday at all?" Arnold asked timidly.

"You mean does the entire school know that you kicked the butt of the notorious bully?" Phil said smiling.

Arnold signed. "Yeah, that,"

Arnold stood up and walked out in the hall. He grabbed his phone and dilled Gerald; it rang twice and then he answered.

"_Hey Arnold,"_

"Hey, what's up?" Arnold said.

"_I should be asking you. You feeling alright?"_

"Yeah I'm fine. It really wasn't…"

"_I can't believe you did that! You totally kicked his ass! Everybody is talking about it,"_

"Aw man," Arnold said, leaning against the side of the wall.

"_So listen, I was thinking, don't worry about coming over today. I mean it'd probably be better with just me and Tim anyway, and I don't want you to...aw Timberly come on that's sugar not salt! Hang on Arnold," _

Arnold heard pots and pans falling and muffled voices yelling in the background. He laughed silently and rolled his eyes.

"_Okay, sorry. So like I was saying…"_

"Sounds like the hens are winning," Arnold said.

"_Well…yeah kind of," _

"Sounds like you could use a hand," Arnold said smiling.

"_Are you sure man?" _

"I'd love to. Someone's got to come watch you two. I am the Gordon Ramsay of Cornish hens after all," Arnold said.

"_Awesome. So I'll see you in a few?" _

"You got it. Seeya," Arnold said.

He hung up the phone and walked back in the kitchen.

"I'm gonna head over to Gerald's and help out. Sounds like he's having a lot of trouble," Arnold said.

"Never pegged him for a chef," Phil said.

"So, uh, what are you and grandma doing tomorrow?" Arnold said.

"Oh nothing much. Probably just milling about the house like we usually do," Phil said.

"Well I was thinking I could cook you guys dinner or something. I'll be getting a head start tonight and, well it _is_ going to be mother's day…" Arnold.

"I'm sure she'd love that. Sounds pretty good to me too!" Phil said smiling. "Now get over there before Gerald burns the house down,"

"I'll head over in a bit. First though, can I call that rain check in on those pancakes from yesterday?" Arnold asked, twisting his face into a hopeful smile.

Phil turned around and grabbed a frying pan.

"You got it Shortman. Chocolate chips?" Phil said.

Arnold paused a moment and sat down at the table again. He looked up at his grandpa smiling.

"You know it," Arnold said.

* * *

><p><strong>That's all folks, thanks for reading. -AG<strong>


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